Authors: Fran Riedemann
“
Only God,” she whispered thinking of the man who would shortly be on his way to pick her up, and the ironies of how their lives had intersected.
***
By the time they arrived at the hotel, the forecast of snow for the holiday changed from thirty percent to one hundred. Magically, large flakes began falling from the sky, as if in slow motion, clinging passively to the branches of the trees and shrubs, creating a Christmas fantasy with the decorations, and havoc with the traffic. Brittany drew her favorite golden colored silk shawl over her hair before stepping from the car.
On some other occasions, Brittany had walked through the Willard Hotel, but had never stayed there, nor eaten at one of their restaurants. When Allan told her where they were dining she was thrilled, because its history had always fascinated her. The best part was it retained no memories of her past life.
When she and Allan stepped inside she tried to picture the political giants, celebrities, dignitaries, and even royalty who had also had these same doors held open for them, hoping that the privilege of the experience hadn’t been missed by them because they felt entitled to it. She was thankful that before tonight she could not have imagined spending Christmas Eve there, and gladder still that she wasn’t preoccupied with anything, but able to take in every detail possible.
Allan’s thoughts, however, were clearly preoccupied that evening. He couldn’t take his eyes off Brittany.
Before they were seated, Brittany slipped out of her blonde mink jacket, cautiously handing it over to the waiting steward. Some years ago the jacket had been fashioned from her grandmother’s mink coat, and Brittany only wore it on the most special occasions. In her make-believe mind she had convinced herself that when she wore it, she and her grandmother had a special telepathy that allowed her grandmother to be with her. While it might seem silly to anyone else, her grandmother was her biggest fan when she was little, and it was her unconditional acceptance that helped steer Brittany through some rough waters with her mom. Brittany could picture her grandmother smiling with approval, should she be watching.
Sorry Grandma
, she thought, handing the jacket to the steward, who quickly disappeared through a door with it dangling over his arm.
It was a surprise to both of them that the restaurant wasn’t overly crowded and several tables in the vast space were empty.
But, of course
, she thought,
most people who are visiting Washington this time of year are no doubt in church or with their families.
At the far end of the room, a man wearing a tuxedo was playing Christmas carols on a grand piano that stood in front of a huge Christmas tree.
Once they were seated, she looked around and above her, taking in the magnificent room. Extravagant chandeliers hung from the ceiling high above, sending prisms of light dancing across the paneled wood walls and the guests seated below.
Oh if these walls could talk,
she thought.
They waited to order, instead taking in the surrounding's ambiance. Her preoccupation with the room’s history served Allan’s purposes well. While she was distracted Allan nodded to their waiter, who disappeared on cue, returning to their table with a gaily wrapped package, about the size of a shoebox, which he placed on the table in front of Brittany before discreetly stepping back.
“
What is this?” she exclaimed, looking at Allan while clasping her hands under her chin. He looked at her, amused, able to picture her as a little girl, expressing herself in the same way when delighted with something.
“
Oh, it’s a little something I wanted you to have tonight,” Allan said, looking rather pleased with himself.
“
But, I didn’t bring anything along to give you.” She looked like she was about to cry, which was unexpected, and the last thing he wanted.
“
Well, why don’t you see what’s in it, before you worry yourself about a gift for me,” he said, watching her reach out to touch the package with her index finger as if it would break or disappear.
“
I-don’t-want-to-open-it.” She said, hesitating with each word.
He could tell she was struggling to stay composed. “But, tell me why not?” he asked her, gently.
It took a moment for her to voice what she was feeling, and in a trembling voice she answered, “Because after I do, one part of this evening will be over.”
He leaned forward, whispering as if they were keeping a confidence, “Well, then, we will just have to repeat it again next year, won’t we?”
“
I like that,” she whispered back, playing with the ribbons on her gift. “Next year…” She repeated it and smiled again. “Next year…”
“
...and every next year after that,” he said, watching her peel back the wrapping paper and remove the lid. Nestled inside the tissue were two Champagne flutes. She lifted one, holding it up to admire it, noticing that her name was etched around the bottom and on further inspection, saw that a moon was etched into the goblet, surrounded by dozens of little stars.
“
They’re beautiful, Allan. I love them,” she said, realizing his thoroughness in remembering what the gift symbolized. He had captured part of that first evening they had spent together at the art show…the Champagne. “I still turn red remembering that evening,” she said, blushing at the memory of one of her more humiliating moments, realizing she was playing into another of the things that made that evening memorable.
He smiled, too, feeling very good about her reaction. “You look good in red. Actually, you look stunning.” He added, “I fell in love with you that night. It was when our eyes met in the gallery window and you recognized it was me.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “That is so amazing. While you were falling in love I was mentally calculating it as the worst night of my life. The gallery still has the picture they took of me that night.”
“
No they don’t.” He was laughing. “I have it. They took it of both of us.” Brittany rested her face in both hands at the thought while Allan winked at the waiter who disappeared, reappearing with a bottle of
Krug Grand Cuvee. Allan set the glasses on the table between them, intending for them to be used for their toast. She noticed that the other flute had his name etched into it. He put his hand over the glasses, signaling for the waiter to wait a moment before opening the Champagne.
“
Brittany, there’s something else inside the box.”
“
More? Allan, it’s empty.”
“
It only looks empty. You need to look under the tissue; there’s a false bottom in the box with something else underneath.”
She looked at him dubiously, shaking her head. “You are too much, Allan Chandler.” Delicately she removed the tissue and with a fingernail pulled up on the artificial bottom in the box, exposing two passports.
“
Oh, my...” she whispered.
“
Open them,” he suggested, watching her reaction closely.
She lifted them out. One had her name on it; the other passport had his. The Passport covers were real, only on the inside of each of the covers was part of a picture of the two of them taken one night outside of the Kennedy Center a few weeks earlier—of each of their faces in profile, looking at each other. The inside of each Passport had each been stamped—Italy.
“
Allan! Italy? We’re going to Italy? Really? When?”
“
I thought we might go for Valentine’s Day. I have an idea of an itinerary, but I wanted for us to plan the trip together.”
“
But…” he knew she was thinking of the sleeping arrangements, since they had promised each other to wait.
“
No
buts
tonight, Darling. And, anyway, there’s more inside the box.”
“
More?” She asked him, clearly puzzled.
He had to smile—it was going so well. “There’s another false bottom.”
“
Another one? Oh, Allan, this is definitely too much.” Her hands resumed their clasped position under her chin.
“
Just open it before our Champagne goes flat,” he teased. So, she ran her fingernail along the side of the box one more time, exposing yet another layer of the gift that kept on giving.
“
It’s an envelope,” she said looking into the box.
“
I know that.”
“
It looks like an invitation,” she continued staring into the box.
“
It does, doesn’t it?” It was going exceedingly well. “Why don’t you want to take it out? It won’t bite.”
She bit her lip, and lifted out the envelope as cautiously as if it did, indeed, have teeth. She looked up, now aware that not only Allan was watching her intently, but that everyone else in the restaurant was leaning forward, watching them with interest.
Brittany turned the envelope over. It was addressed to her.
He nodded for her to go ahead and open it. She slid an invitation out of the second envelope tucked inside the first one. Indeed, it was an invitation—a wedding invitation.
The front of it was engraved with a gold cross with two gold rings entwined underneath. Under them were engraved the words,
An invitation
…she could feel her heart rate responding already. She looked across at him, his face bathed in candlelight, where he sat looking at her with more love in his eyes than she could have believed possible in her lifetime, watching him blur while her eyes filled with tears.
“
Open it, Brittany,” he said softly.
“
But if I do one more part of this evening will be over,” her eyes brimmed over.
He reached over, taking the invitation from her, opening it for her, and handing back. “Tonight is only the beginning, Brittany. Would you please read it to me?”
She read aloud, in a faltering voice, the words that had been carefully scribed in calligraphy, “Brittany Lynne Foster, you are cordially invited to become the wife of Allan Joseph Chandler on this upcoming Valentine’s Day. RSVP upon receipt”. While she was reading it, he stood up, moving from his side of the table to hers, now dropping to one knee. With his right hand he reached inside his suit coat, bringing out a ring that he held up between them.
“
Brittany, I want you to be my wife until death parts us. I hope you already know how much I love you.”
She was speechless, but unhesitatingly held out her left hand for him to adorn with the ring. She stared at her ring finger, not wanting the evening to end, but knowing it would be retained as a memory that would light every holiday going forward. She looked at him, hoping he saw the same intense love in her eyes as she saw in his. “I love you as much, Allan Chandler. Yes, I very much want to be your wife until death parts us.”
He stood to his feet, pulling her up with him, at last giving their expectant audience what they were waiting for. When their lips touched the pianist, who some time ago had ceased to play, began playing, “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore” to a standing ovation.
Allan instructed the waiter, “Champagne-for everyone!”
When she looked away from him, and around the room, her eyes wandered to a table in the corner where she noticed Rick-the-Painter, Jeanne, and Randy who were clapping wildly. Of course, Randy was in tears.
Allan had thought of everything.
***
On Christmas morning Brittany awoke to a winter wonderland outside. She showered and dressed, giving her hair a toss rather than drying it, to save time. She was going to grow it out; it wouldn’t be long, but longer than it was. If she started now it would be perfect by the wedding. Thankfully, Allan preferred it shorter—probably a result of his first memory of her with it long. He would be there any minute, and their first Christmas together would begin.
She descended the stairs, pausing to appreciate the fir tree she and Allan decorated a few weeks prior, adorned in white Poinsettias and red feathers—Allan’s idea. The dining room table was set for four. Jeanne and Randy would be joining them for Christmas brunch. She now knew that Jeanne and Randy had been a large part of helping orchestrate Allan’s surprises, although unseen. Allan told her that he had asked Randy for his permission to wed Brittany, for lack of being able to ask her father or mother. Of course, Randy cried when Allan asked him.
She turned on the coffee maker and some Christmas CD’s, aware that it would be nearly a year before she would play them again, recalling that it was a year ago when she had been positive she would never be able to listen to Christmas music without it making her sad. It seemed like so much longer than a year…
Sitting down on the floor in front of the fireplace to stoke the fire, unable to resist taking a moment to reflect on the last year and wondering what today would have been like for her had Allan not entered her life; dating anyone had been the farthest thing from her mind. She also couldn’t help but wonder how Craig was feeling today. He had a new life, a life without any of the physical reminders of his years with Brittany. And, here she was, surrounded with reminders, but because of Allan, none of them haunted her. A scripture that had come to represent what the God-led changes in her life was Isaiah 14:18 & 19; "Do not call to mind the former things, or ponder things of the past. Behold, I will do something new, now it will spring forth; will you not be aware of it? I will even make a roadway in the wilderness, rivers in the desert."